The Haddock House
by LadyHaddock
Summary: "I'm sorry," Zeph winced, giving her brother a weak grin. "Mom would have thrashed them." [A Collection of Hiccstrid / Haddock Family Oneshots]
1. A Late Homecoming

**A collection of interrelated oneshots (and the odd twoshot here and there) about our beloved Haddocks. Not in chronological order, but as inspiration strikes. Though listed as 'Complete,' this will be updated as a continuing story until I run out of ideas (so hit that 'Follow' button if you want more).**

**All stories here will be posted separately also, for anyone who likes a particular one, two or few but not the others. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

**A LATE HOMECOMING**

Hanging his chief's cloak felt like suspending the archipelago, but for some reason the short climb to the bedroom was longer than Hiccup would have liked. It had something to do with wanting to come home – coming back home and being whole again.

Whatever burdens he carried for the village were gone now, buried deep and forgotten.

He paused, for a moment, at the top of the stairs and rested jaded eyes on the first door to his right. It stood ajar in the wake of a familiar vacantness, empty crib lit under the trailing moonlight. _Not much longer,_ Hiccup thought with a smile. Well before the next summoning of chieftains anyway.

He proceeded toward Zephyr's room, footfalls quiet but quick, grinning at the thought of her sleep-mused form awaiting him. But just as his hand reached for the handle, the door flung back and a small russet blur came crashing into his legs.

"Hey, Princess," he whispered, stumbling on his prosthetic as tiny arms wound around him, "What are you doing up?"

"You're late, Daddy," came a muffled huff at his knee, before the mop of russet lifted and he was met with the intent, sea-blue stare of his wife.

Identical grins broke across their faces and Hiccup scooped the little girl up in a fit of giggles. Shifting her in one arm, he motioned to his lips, and Zeph clamped her hands over her mouth, beam widening behind her fingers as he stepped into her room and quietly closed the door.

"You've been my brave lookout tonight, have you?" he asked, bouncing her gently as he carried her to the bed.

She nodded with enthusiasm. "I was keeping watch wif Mommy, but Mommy said it was getting too late."

"That it is," he agreed, brushing wispy bangs from the eyes he'd fallen doubly in love with for the last three years. An hour ago, he was sure sleep would befall him before he even reached the docks. Now, with his precious daughter in his arms, he found his exhaustion ebbing away. "Is Mommy asleep?"

"Yup, Mommy's really tired. But I took good care of her."

Hiccup's heart swelled as he beamed down at his baby girl, the pride in her smile flowing to his own. Who'd have thought that such a simple look could give a man such a flurry? "That's my girl," he leaned in to blow a raspberry behind her ear.

Zephyr giggled again, gripping his tunic tighter. She nuzzled her nose into his chest – another one of her endless traits that he loved – and Hiccup found himself on the bed with her in his lap, making her gasp between laughs.

"You're i-itchy, Daddy!"

"Itchy?" he feigned surprise, "You mean, like _this?"_ and he pressed his lips to her neck in another puff, hugging her close to stop her escaping.

"N-now you're s-scratchy!"

As his hold slackened both for immediate thought of waking Astrid and puzzlement at the comment, Zeph reached up with chubby little fingers to touch his chin.

"Scratchy," she repeated with a quieter giggle and Hiccup absently mimicked the motion, realizing a fuzz of russet that had snuck him by the past few days. "Are you growing a beard, Daddy?"

"Well, I don't know, Zeph," he studied her fondly, "I've never considered it… Do you think I should?"

Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment, eyes shining brightly under her night candle. "Maybe a little one."

"Oh? Just a _little_ one? Like Uncle Fishlegs'?"

"Vat's not a beard, Daddy – vat's a moos-taaash!"

Hiccup chuckled at her seriousness. "Oh, sorry, I thought beards and mustaches came together. How about… Uncle Snotlout's then?"

"Eww! No way!"

"So a _big_ one then, you say… like Uncle Tuffnut's?"

Zeph's expression morphed into a satirical scowl. Thor, it was like looking in a mirror at his three-year-old self, "Don't be silly, Daddy. Uncle Tuffnut doesn't have a beard!"

Hiccup gasped in feigned astonishment, making her chortle again. _"Doesn't he?!"_

She grinned cheekily – now _that_ one she'd definitely inherited from her mother – "No, it's just his _hair!"_

"Why, aren't you clever figuring that out; that's _five whole years_ he's fooled _me."_

That prouder-than-ever smile graced her features again and Hiccup marveled at how she could switch from him to Astrid and back in a heartbeat. "I guess I'll have to settle for a little one then," he said in sham defeat, "since Tuffnut's proven how hard beards are to grow. But in the meantime…"

"_Daddyyyy!"_ Zephyr whinged as he rubbed his cheek against hers, abandoning another futile attempt at squirming out of his grasp. She reburied her face in his tunic, the rest of her sentence muffled in a jumble of giggles.

Whether her infinite energy reserves had come from him with his years of late-night inventing or Astrid with her pre-dawn training routines, Hiccup didn't know. But he didn't want either of them to pay the price tomorrow.

Regretfully drawing back, he shifted the furs and proceeded to tuck her in. "Well now that she's made sure I'm back safe and sound, I think my brave little lookout can be relieved of her duties for the night."

"Okay…" she reluctantly obliged, settling back against her pillow as he pulled the covers to her chin. "But Daddy, you _did_ finish all your chiefing, right?"

"For tomorrow," Hiccup smiled, laying a tender kiss to her forehead.

"So you don't have to be the village's daddy tomorrow?"

"Nope, I'm all yours, princess."

Zephyr beamed. "And Mommy's."

"And Mommy's," he agreed, an overwhelming flurry of passion seizing his mind at the thought of his wife. "Sleep tight, Zeph," he said softly as he got up and made his way to the door, "And no more lookout duty."

She saluted with a grin, sea-hued orbs gleaming with cheek. Odin above, she looked just like _her_… "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, precious."

* * *

At first, Astrid didn't stir, but when he carefully slipped in beside her and pulled the furs over himself, her heavy lashes lifted and her eyes fluttered open.

"Hiccup?" He watched her gaze drift into focus, ocean blue meeting forest green. She grinned lazily and murmured in a sleepy daze, "You're late."

"So I've been told – your daughter," he held her weary but heartfelt gaze in the candlelight. The tallow stood tall on their bedside table, evidencing its burning as brief. "And what's kept _you _up this late, milady?"

"Your son," she teased back, and Hiccup lay a palm over her swollen womb, feeling said little life turning inside of her. _He_ was a 'tough little tumbler,' Astrid had observed the past few months, hence – by some motherly intuition – she'd concluded they were having a boy. Hiccup didn't remind her that _she_ was the toughest Viking on Berk, men of his father's generation included.

(But determinedly he always referred to the baby as a she, so his wife hadn't fully won that one yet.)

Too tired and sympathetic to challenge her, he settled for a genuine apology for his delay. Astrid gratefully accepted the arm he curved behind her and he drew her into him, cupping her jaw with his free hand before she could begin asking about southern chieftains and trade routes.

That could wait until morning, or year's end for all Hiccup cared now that his world was in his arms again.

Well, half his world – two thirds, most accurately. His fingertips flexed at the side of her – _heavily_ – swollen belly.

Gods she was beautiful. And gods, she needed him here.

Smoothing his other palm across her cheek, Hiccup leaned in and kissed her. She grinned sleepily against his lips, her fingers winding around his neck and gliding through his hair. After an eternity that was all too short she tilted her head back and broke the kiss, gazing up at him curiously.

"Hiccup?"

"Yes?"

Astrid cocked her head to the side, "What is this?"

"This?" he repeated dazedly, before he noticed her fingertips exploring his jawline. "It's my new beard, Astrid."

She contemplated him for a moment. "Is it staying?"

"Well… it's the traditional Viking look."

"For the most untraditional Viking ever."

Hiccup tried to look serious but her stare melted him. "True…" he found himself playing with her own sleep-strewn tresses, "but something's got to be done for sake of my manliness; you girls have me outnumbered."

Astrid grinned, drawing his hand down and guiding it across her abdomen, "Not for long."

"Maybe even more so soon," he challenged with a loving massage, and as if to immediately disprove his statement he felt a hard kick against his fingers.

"I think that's a disagreement there, Chief," she goaded, smirk widening mischievously.

"Cheater," Hiccup pouted. His gaze fell on their entwined fingers with accusation, "You knew he was going to do that."

"Maybe. But you just called him a he, so…"

"Fine, you win," he conceded with a sigh, bracing himself for the usual "You knew what you were getting into."

But she was so breathtaking, and with the phenomenon that was their second child rolling beneath his palm, he couldn't stop that tired grin from forming on his face. Besides, there was still the first victory to claim: "Zeph likes it."

He drew his gaze up to find Astrid watching him with longing. Her hand found his cheek again, thumb brushing the russet fuzz, "Does she now?"

She pulled him down to taste his lips once more, and Hiccup's own stomach flipped as he found himself wrapping both arms around her belly. So entranced, he almost forgot to relish his triumph, until she pulled back for a thoughtful moment and murmured lovingly against his lips, "I suppose I could get used to it."

_That we could,_ he mutely agreed as she snuggled against his chest. He managed a drowsy, lopsided grin and hugged her ever closer, nuzzling his fluffy chin into her hair.

Astrid could never refuse their precious little girl, and by gods, he could never refuse either of his.


	2. A Greater Role

**A GREATER ROLE**

It didn't take long for her to find him. Vigilance was, after all, drummed into prospective warriors before they even learned to talk and Astrid was coming on thirty-two years' experience. That, and she had an impeccably honed mommy-compass that pointed right in the direction of sobbing, hiding and general mischief-making munchkins.

It had absolutely nothing to do with his anomalous absence from their training spot, or the guilt numbing her conscience at the heartbroken expression she'd last seen this morning (and, with equally heavy heart, had caused).

Alright, perhaps it was the latter – in part. It wasn't as if it could've been helped.

"_When are Daddy and Zeph coming back?"_

"_It's still a few days, Nuff. But they'll be back by the end of the week."_

"_Okay…" __Eyes focused intently on the map before her, Astrid's subconscious limned the hurt in her son's gaze. __Golden locks came in view as he stood on tippy toes to observe her. "Can we go axe-training now?"_

"_Soon, honey. I've just got some important work to finish first, okay?"_

"_But you said we could train this morning and it's almost lunch time," he pouted, folding a petite pair of arms across his chest. "You _promised,_ Mommy."_

_Astrid sighed inwardly, drawing sea-blue eyes from the parchment to meet jade orbs welling with tears. Stepping around the table, she felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Oh, how she hated that look. It was her least favorite look in the entire archipelago._

"_I know, honey," she murmured softly as she squatted to his level, "But with your father out, I have to do all the chiefing; I'm the village's mommy too and you know that."_

_Nuffink frowned miserably, blinking back tears, "I wish you weren't."_

_That broke her. Sometimes it was hard to argue with really; in her heart Astrid was in love with Berk – the people, the encampment, the woodlands, even century-old Mildew and his pestilent crop – but her family, her dear Hiccup and the two precious children they'd made together__…__ they were her _world_.__ More oft than not Astrid wished she could solely be theirs._

_Drawing Nuff into a fervent embrace, she lay a kiss to the top of his head. "It's not permanent, sweetie – not like us," his pleading arms almost won, "Just for a little while longer, then I'm all yours, okay?"_

_Jades drowning in ocean, he fought back sniffles with a wistful nod._

_She gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze, "Thanks, buddy."_

* * *

Hastening across the courtyard, Astrid felt a fresh surge of dread with every step. How had she lost track of time like that? It was well into _lunch_ already – no wonder the village was empty, all occupants in the mead hall.

Well, spare for two.

At last she caught the familiar golden mop ruffling in the breeze, an arm clutching a bucket of inks and dyes she recognized from her husband's workshop, and a pair of furry little boots balancing on tiptoes on the nose of–

"NUFFINK HADDOCK! WHAT IN THOR'S NAME ARE YOU _DOING?!"_

Flinching, her son spun to face her with a wobble, causing Astrid's shock to immediately morph into panic. She dashed toward the huge rock beneath him, dodging a spatter of goop from the bucket in his grasp.

Thankfully he took after her in Viking finesse, so her heart remained intact as he regained his balance. But lamentably – as in the general case of sulking and tantruming – he'd also inherited every ounce of her mordancy.

"CHIEFING!"

"_Chiefing,"_ Astrid repeated in a low tone. She placed her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at the boy's handiwork; stone-Stoick's face was barely recognizable, eyes sporting thick black circles in a feminine touch of khol, once-glorious beard a ghastly pink with splashes of crimson matching contorted lips. "By disgracing the statue built in honor of your grandfather?!"

Nuffink stuck out his bottom lip, gaze drifting to the puddle of dye at her feet. "He asked for it!"

She pinched the bridge of her nose as he scuffed his boot on the stone one. "He _what?_"

An indiscernible mumble about 'chiefs' was the reply.

Not having a clue as to why he was acting so bizarrely disrespectful, and (supremely) deeming it best to discuss the matter where he couldn't hurt himself, Astrid threw her son a sharp glower. "Alright, young man, you have some serious explaining to do. Come down here _right now."_

Nuffink lifted sullen eyes to scowl at her. "_You're _chiefing!" he shouted accusingly, and her heart sank at the sudden tears threatening to spill from them. "Daddy's chiefing! Zeph's chiefing! Everyone's CHIEFING! And CHIEF Grandpa's stupid statue's overseeing us so even_ he's_ chiefing!" He wiped his nose with the back of an ink-stained hand, and for a moment it looked like he was about to resume his vandalizing – but then his face crumpled and the tears began to stream.

As the meaning of his words sunk in, Astrid's leaden heart followed suit and all her irritation dissipated like smoke. "Nuff…" she said gently, moving to stand beneath him (yet safe enough from getting dunked in a multitude of wet colors). She held out an assuring hand, "Why don't you come down so we can talk, and find a way to fix this together?"

She could see his anger ebb despite the persistent scowl. Oh, that stubbornness he'd inherited from her and Hiccup both – while it usually made her proud to no end, it proved one Hel of a difficulty whenever he was upset.

Though it had been a long time since he was _this _upset, and it worried her.

"Look, honey, I really want to help. But you're gonna have to help me out first…"

After a long, gloomy stare, Nuff yielded. He glanced uncertainly at the bucket, and Astrid gave him a nod, stepping back as it fell with a loud thunk and the inks spilled inches from her boots.

Watching him descend the drier patches of beard, she wondered how on earth he'd gotten up there in the first place – and how he'd managed to paint such a vast amount of rock without messing all over himself. Truly, the boy was Hiccup's son as much as hers.

Her amazement was short-lived, however, when he froze in a crouch atop the giant axe-blade.

"Nuff? What's wrong?"

Anger abandoned, the young Viking looked down with wide eyes. He was now close enough for her to make out the dazzling green in them. "I'm stuck."

"It's alright," Astrid assured him, "You can jump, sweetie – I'll catch you."

His hesitation awed her; he'd climbed up and (almost) down a twelve-metre statue by himself, yet he was afraid of a _little jump?_

"Or were you thinking of doing a runner on me?" she teased. "That's a shame, because I could really use a good snuggle right now – especially from my little prince."

Nuff held her gaze for a fraction of a second, then his doubt shattered along with his adamancy and he threw himself into her arms.

Catching his petite form proved no difficulty (thank Odin he took after Hiccup in that regard too) and Astrid hugged him close, one hand shifting his weight more comfortably, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. Aware of the ruckus that would soon occur over the scene, she sidestepped a splash of hued ground and left the defiled stone-Stoick with a pang of guilt.

One of the things Astrid loved about New Berk was that its slopes were built amidst groves and groves of wildwood, so floral hideouts were just a short walk from any part of the village. The layout proved especially convenient when it came to a needed session of tree-slaying therapy – or, in the present sense, carrying a sobbing little squirt away from the risk of prying eyes.

Settling at a trunk in a sunlit clearing, Astrid crossed her legs and repositioned her son in her lap, cradling his head beneath her chin and wrapping a comforting arm around him.

Nuffink appreciated snuggle time as much as she – and oh, she already dreaded the day he'd grow out of it – so she held him like that for a while, gently rocking him back and forth as he gripped her ever tighter, burying himself into her chest. She made no comment as his salty tears drenched her tunic and he made no effort to stop them. She was, however, troubled by his being _this _distraught.

"Am I in trouble, Mommy?" he eventually asked in a muffle, breath warming her collarbone.

Astrid pulled back to meet a tangle of gold locks. Under the cool and lazy sun they shone like a halo around his head – though he'd rather acted like a devilish little sprite today and she did pride herself on honesty.

"Yes," she replied, pressing her lips to his temple, "but I am too, just as much."

Nuffink looked up, green eyes like a flooded forest. "You are?"

Gods, how could such an innocent look melt her insides like that? She tipped him to the side, wiping a tear with tender fingers. "Yeah, I'm sorry I broke my promise to you, Nuff. I shouldn't have let my chief duties get in the way of us spending time together."

Noticing his hope wane at the mention of 'chief duties,' Astrid had a feeling there was more to the story. But she waited patiently, proceeding to dry his other cheek and brush the tangled bangs from his forehead.

"I'm sorry too, Mommy," he said sincerely, "for making Grandpa Stoick ugly."

"I know you are. It's okay, sweetie. But… I get the feeling there's something else upsetting you?"

Nuff dropped his gaze, face falling as he spoke to the grass. "It's… it's nothing… I-I'm fine."

Of course, Astrid could read him like a Nadder. "Nuff… I'm Chieftess" – there it was again, that sullen flinch – "If you tell me what's wrong, I'm sure there's _some _way I'll be able to help."

"You _can't_ help, Mommy," he mumbled wistfully, "N-not this time."

Astrid tilted her head down to meet him at eye level, summoning a fresh influx of tears. "Nuffink Haddock," she asserted, giving his shoulder an encouraging rub, "have we _ever _met a problem we couldn't solve, you and me?"

He shook his head. "It's just… you and Daddy are _both_ Chief, and- and Zeph's gonna be the future Chief… so what does… w-what does that make m-_me?_"

Astrid's heart ruptured along with his tearducts. "Oh, honey…"

As he broke down in her embrace, she honestly didn't know what to say. It wasn't that she'd never expected a similar conversation – Zeph was the heir after all – but a horrid dread overwhelmed her at the thought of her boy, _her baby boy_, labeling himself some sort of… _outcast_ because the honors and plights of chieftainship had befallen the rest of their family but not him.

Her little boy: the babe she'd loved more than thinkable from the moment she'd discovered he was growing in her womb; the child she'd spent three days bringing into the world, the most perilous, difficult and tied-equal rewarding thing she'd done in her life; her and Hiccup's second-born, their only son – their strong, breathtaking, _precious little miracle_ – felt inferior because his sister, her Zeph she loved not a jot less or more, had been born _first?_

It was downright wounding. It made her own eyes sting.

"Listen to me, Nuff," Astrid asserted, gentle but firm, "Being Chief is a _job_, just like any job in the village. The Chief is very important, yes, but so is everyone else. Without the blacksmith we wouldn't have weapons to defend ourselves when enemies attack. If we didn't have farmers or fishermen, we wouldn't have food. If we didn't have shipwrights, we wouldn't have ships to travel and trade. Do you think your father and I would even be here without all the other people when a Chief's job is to look after them and _their _jobs are to look after the Chief _and_ each other?

Nuff shook his head slowly, ruffled locks tickling the underside of her chin.

Astrid found herself trailing her fingers through them. "And do you think any of these jobs are less important than the others?"

"N-no… but you and Daddy and Zeph are _all_ Chiefs. I'll be the only one who isn't!"

She pulled back a little, gently drawing his chin up. "That's true, but that isn't what defines us. Zephyr won't become Chief for a very long time – and that's only if she _wants_ to. And being Chief is only _one_ of my roles, same as your father's. There's an even greater one… Do you know what that is?"

Nuff brushed his nose, gazing up at her intently.

She wiped his cheek and pushed the wild bangs from his face once more. "When you told me you wished I wasn't the village's mommy this morning, do you remember what I told you?"

His brow furrowed for a moment, then his puffy eyes widened with wonder and, for the first time that day, the tiniest gleam of mirth.

"As Chieftess I am the village's mommy, that's true. But _you," _Astrid gave his nose a playful flick, "and your father and sister are the greatest part of my world."

Nuff swallowed. "R-really?"

"Absolutely," she beamed at him, locking her hands together around his shoulders. "Before I was named Chieftess, I was your father's right-hand companion for years. He never looks at me as the village's Chieftess, but as his lifelong partner – as _me_. And to me, he's not just Chief; he's the man I fell in love with, your daddy. And _you_…"

Watching the awe brim in those eyes Astrid loved more than the archipelago made her chest swell. Odin, it was like looking right at _him_, yet at the same time a different, both equally and somehow even _more_ breathtaking pair.

"When you and your sister were born, do you know how happy you made us? How proud of you and Zeph we were even then, and have been every day since? Nothing has ever made us prouder or happier. Uncle Eret had to physically _drag_ your father out of the house sometimes to do his chiefing because he never wanted to leave you. And when people came over to get me to do mine, they complained because I couldn't take my eyes off you or put you down. We drove the village crazy for months with our love for Zephyr, and then with our love for you all over again."

Nuff let out a watery chuckle. "You and Daddy really did that?"

"We did," Astrid laughed, "We were even more annoying at times than Uncle Snotlout is to Aunty Ruff. And you know what? We _chose_ what we wanted to be, and we chose to always be with each other and to be your mom and dad. And that had nothing to do with being Chief. You get to choose, Nuff. Only _you_ will know what's right for you, and only Zeph will know what's right for her."

"But… how will we know?"

"You'll find the answer," Astrid placed a hand over his heart, "in here."

Nuffink followed her arm down to his chest, and then his mouth twisted into a grin wider than ever. Curling up against her, he exclaimed in a long-missed laugh, "Thanks, Mommy!" and as he wound his little arms around her neck once more and nuzzled his nose above her collarbone, Astrid fervently decided that the evening's chiefing (and restitutional stone-scrubbing) could wait until morning. "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, honey." _So, so damn much _– Astrid felt like growing another heart just for it. Locking him in tight, she blew a series of cherries on his neck, evoking the familiar fit of chuckles she so adored.

"H-hey! S-stop!" he exclaimed between laughs, grasping her forearms and seeking refuge in her chest again. She felt guilty for having to crush the moment with her next words (or rueful for a more accurate term; she could get lost in Nuff's snuggles and laughter for eternity), but reality was reality and actions deserved justice.

After pressing a long, passionate kiss to his cheek, Astrid forced herself to pull back. "Now, _you've_ got years to decide what you want to be. But unfortunately, there's someone we left behind in the courtyard who doesn't…"

"Oh…yeah…" Nuff's chuckles subsided with an air of regret. Bravely, he looked up to meet her eyes, "He can be fixed, right?"

She lifted her brow, laying heavy emphasis on her words as both mother and chief within agreed, "Oh, _we'll_ fix him_._ He'll look brand new."

Nuffink gulped, now fully aware of the trouble he was in, and for a moment Astrid thought he looked ready to cry all over again. This time though, there wasn't a trace of sorrow between them.

She gave him a loving squeeze. "But before that, I believe I owe you a training session."


	3. A Long Night

**AN: The ending is based on a prompt by CalvinFujii. Enjoy :)**

* * *

**A LONG NIGHT**

"We have a problem, Chief Haddock."

_Add it to the pile,_ Astrid thought satirically as the door gave a familiar squeak and a sleep-mused mane of russet appeared through the gap.

The address had included her – hence the use of family name – but for the moment their burly guest's attention was on Hiccup. A good thing; patience was a virtue her husband had in abundance, and Astrid's already substandard supply was growing thin for misbehaving little tots and querulous northern chiefs, vital allies or not.

She caught Hiccup's guilty glance from across the room – their usual seating arrangement, asserting her role as New Berk's Chieftess rather than his wife. Though tonight Astrid felt exclusively the latter, leaving the room every few minutes to carry one restless child back to bed while the other kicked in her eminently swelling womb. That, coupled with the bout of Eel Pox doing the rounds, which had invoked the protectiveness waiting to burst forth in full fanatical form from her husband the past few moon cycles (_"We're not leaving Zeph with a babysitter, and _you, _milady, s__hould be at home safe and resting"_).

Soothing his guilt with a tired smile, Astrid left him with the Northlander and made her way toward the petite set of fingers curled at the door-frame.

"Zeph…" she sighed at the cheeky, freckled face gazing up at her. Those breathtaking orbs didn't quite drown her this time, but that didn't stop the prickling urge to yield. She would have squatted down if it weren't a troublesome endeavor, and if they weren't on round… what was it now? Seven? Eight? (Astrid had lost count fifteen minutes ago.) So instead, she took her daughter's hand and gave it a gentle tug in the direction of the stairs.

"Back to bed, you. Come on."

Zephyr stubbornly held her gaze, eyes wide and betrayed. Her lower lip quivered a little. Oh the kid was good, Astrid thought with unwilling pride – a devious little Hiccup through and through. And despite a certain bed-partner missing from her clutches, the series of trips up and down the staircase didn't seem to have the slightest effect on her energy reserves.

Unfortunately in _her_ condition, the shieldmaiden couldn't say the same. "Is that Windshear I hear? She sounds a little _lonely_…"

Zeph's sulky expression morphed into one of concern, and without pause she grasped her mother's hand and led her up to her room. Dashing to the bed, she seized the Razorwhip to her chest, murmuring a most empathetic string of apologies.

Astrid couldn't help but beam at the sight. Zeph loved the little toy dragon, so fervently that its head-horn and a wing were coming loose. It was patterned in the blue and yellow scales of Stormfly, though it had Toothless' bright green eyes. For her third nameday Heather had stitched a mix of all three dragons, but Zeph had been especially taken with the Razorwhip in Hiccup's sketchbook and (to the latter's chagrin) named it in honor of the Berserker's own.

Much like her budding worldview; she loved a great plenty things, but those at the top she fawned with inextinguishable fervor and, good Thor, she absolutely loathed missing out on _anything_.

"Do you _have_ to go back, Mommy?" she whispered as Astrid helped her onto the bed and proceeded to tuck her in.

"I do, sweetie. Daddy and I still have some important things to discuss with Chief Harald."

Her brow furrowed with that unwaning persistence she'd donned all evening, "Can't we come too? Pleeeease?" and Astrid racked the depths of her exhausted mind for strategy. She felt as if she'd stepped into a twofold ambush, clutching her belly while the little accomplice squirmed and squiggled inside of her.

Zeph waited expectantly as the baby lurched, and glad for the excuse to sit down, Astrid gently settled on the bed. She placed her hands over her daughter's at Windshear's sides, "Do you remember when Daddy told you about the villages outside of New Berk?"

Zeph nodded.

"Well, Chief Harald's from a village far away – high up in the north at the top of Daddy's map. And there no one knows that dragons are our friends."

Her eyes widened with astonishment, "Vey _don't?"_

Astrid shook her head, thumbs fondly tracing her tiny knuckles. "Sadly, the dragons had to go back to the Hidden World before they could make friends with the Northlanders. So the people there never came to understand them and still find them a little scary because of that."

Zephyr frowned as she glanced down at the toy. "Do you fink Chief Harald will be scared of Windshear, Mommy?"

"Probably," Astrid felt a fresh swell of pride at her empathy, "and Windshear might be scared of him too, so I need you two to hold the fort here okay?" She leaned in to press their foreheads together, gazing affectionately into the pools of matching sea, "Do you think you could do that for me?"

Zeph nodded with resolve. She hugged the miniature dragon, and then Astrid, tight but gentle as their middles bumped.

"That's my girl," the latter murmured, giving her a squeeze before slowly disentangling herself. "Daddy and I will be in bed soon too, so we'll see you in the morning, okay?" But a palm reached for the bulge in her tunic when she made to stand.

"And the baby?" Zeph whispered with a soft caress. Her fingers crawled lovingly across the fabric, and Astrid smiled, reveling in the action for a moment before lifting them to her lips.

"And the baby," she affirmed, relieved to notice that _both_ her children seemed (semi) settled at last. "You know what, though? I think he might be asleep _already_."

(Gods, she hoped.)

Zephyr giggled as Astrid kissed and blew on her hands before releasing them. That seemed to finally satisfy her. She wriggled under the blankets at last, stretching out to give Astrid's belly a final stroke.

"Goodnight," she whispered to the babe before meeting her mother's enamored gaze. "Love you lots, Mommy."

Hearing it for the eighth time that night was as exhilarating as the first.

* * *

"And while we've faced worsening decline in trade, our enemies have been gaining strength. Deny it all you want, but your freeing of the beasts cost the archipelago heavily."

Hiccup's jaw twitched in annoyance, though only Astrid noticed. She couldn't help but admire his restraint, considering it was only twelve minutes since she'd re-subjected herself to the tirade (and zoned out a good two in).

But perhaps the burly Northlander was only partly to blame. And perhaps it was a_ good_ thing he was so caught up in his spiel – otherwise he'd catch the way she'd gaze at her husband every time he ran an absent hand through his hair, or the way she'd chew her lip when he'd stroke the russet fuzz beneath his. Or how she'd draw his focus when caressing their _other_ little culprit who seemed about as restless with the wearisome rant as them both.

So restless in fact, that Astrid wondered if said rascal might just decide to come out and join them despite the healers' judgement. It wasn't an entirely implausible thought (she was sure she hadn't been _this_ big with Zephyr and couldn't recall her baby girl kicking this hard). Though Berk's healers being down with the Pox was no notion to entertain – _especially_ if her husband's frenzied antics were going to be a repetition of last time.

(In addition to her own, which was another story entirely.)

"…and if we are to withhold this alliance, we expect Berk's aide in putting things right."

_I know, I know,_ Astrid agreed at another powerful punt. Flexing soothing fingers across her belly, she looked up to find Hiccup gazing at her with a smile that made her heart flutter. Unfortunately, so was their guest, whose expression brought on flutters of an entirely different sort.

Cheeks flushing, she formally returned his stare. "Even if you were to accept the word of _rumors_, Chief Harald, trade can be reclaimed."

"And multiplied," Hiccup added, "in other kinds of ventures."

Harald's narrowed eyes lingered on him for a moment before returning to Astrid who met his gaze with equal stoicism. Realizing he wasn't going to get anything on their scaly secret, he turned back to her husband with a sigh. "And what such ventures might you suggest?"

Not at all fancying another immediate venture herself, Astrid cringed as the door creaked again and a sniffle reached her ears. Ignoring Hiccup's pitying gaze, she left the room once more to be met with mournful eyes and a suffocating Windshear.

"Oh, honey," she murmured, inducing a fresh spill of tears, "What's the matter?"

Zeph buried her face in her thigh, dampening her leggings and mumbling an unintelligible response.

Astrid sighed, and crouched down with strenuous effort. Too tired to forge a new plan or debate the thought, she lifted the little girl up in a side-cuddle, receiving an eyeful of dragon as chubby arms wound around her neck. "Still can't sleep, huh?"

Zeph shook her head, and with a few burning blinks, the young mother yielded.

"Why don't you come sit with me then, and be my secret lookout?"

Glistening orbs looked up with hope, "Can I, Mommy? Really?"

Astrid nodded, withdrawing a hand to dry her cheeks. "But you have to be _stealthy_, okay? And so does Windshear. Will you make sure she stays quiet for the _whole _meeting until Chief Harald leaves?"

Zeph nodded back with enthusiasm and Astrid gave her a defeated but loving smile. Shifting her onto her hip, she grasped the doorknob and Harald's whinging flooded into the hall.

"_West?!_ _Beyond_ the archipelago? It's impossible to navigate on such a stretch of open sea. We'll starve out before we even catch a glimpse of this _rich land_ – which might not even exist!"

Settling back in her seat with her daughter curled up against her, Astrid shared a loving look with her husband. If the northerner cared for the presence of their new companion he gave no acknowledgement, nor did the three-year-old spare him any. Her bright beaming expression was entirely for her father, an exchange that brought a warm, fuzzy feeling to Astrid's gut.

Or perhaps that was the babe. Either way, it was a welcome one.

"You really expect me to risk my ships and reputation on such a delusion?"

Hiccup blinked under Harald's gaze, recovering with a fluster as Zeph nestled closer to Astrid. Her little legs swung back and forth while chubby fingers fidgeted with the toy in her lap, and Astrid drew her in sideways for lack of room on her own.

"Unless of course," the stocky chieftain narrowed his eyes, "Berk has been hiding _more _secrets?"

Hiccup suppressed a scowl as he got up toward the fireplace. "No secrets," he asserted firmly, knowing full well where the conversation was going – or going _back to_. He blew out all but one of the nearby candles. "We have not traveled to any lands across the Sullen Sea. But it _is_ possible to go west on the open waters, using this."

Returning from the mantelpiece, he presented the taper and a circular board of wood centered with a pointer. Harald's frown deepened skeptically while Zephyr let out a gasp. She looked up at Astrid, a glint of excitement in her eye, and the latter grinned back.

Zeph loved to watch and (pretend to) help her father while he invented. And he loved to watch (and get distracted by) her face lighting with mirth. Fortunately their guest was too intrigued by the tool to notice.

"It's a sunboard," Hiccup eventually snapped out of his daze, shifting the flickering flame over it. "Imagine this candle as the sun; it rises higher and higher into the sky until noon," he lifted the tallow in emphasis, "See how the shadow shortens? At noon, it is at its shortest. You mark a circle around the pointer there, and when you set sail, you watch the shadow."

As he drew on the wood, Zeph snuggled against her mother's breast. She gazed admiringly at his demonstration, eyes shimmering under the candlelight as her lashes slowly drooped, and for the first time that night Astrid felt at peace.

"If it only touches the circle, the course remains true." She smiled drowsily, lips pressing into a soft pillow of russet. "If it passes outside the circle like this, then you have drifted," her kiss lingered there, "meaning you must steer further south," and as her husband tilted the candle, she felt a tiny hand glide across her belly just as a vibrant thump came from within. "And if it never reaches the circle…"

"Then you are too far south," Harald nodded, "and must steer more to the north."

While their guest was making his conclusion, Zeph let out a giggle, and meeting her sea-blue stare filled with irresistible mirth, Astrid melted.

Instead of hushing her daughter, she enclosed her free hand over hers, shifting it ever slightly to rest right over the kicks. For Harald's voice suddenly seemed an ocean away, and were it not for her husband's charming stutter she would have completely and utterly drowned in the moment.

"Exactly… so as long as…" Hiccup trailed off rather lamely and Astrid sensed his gaze follow hers.

From their side-snuggle Zeph shot him a sleepy grin, Windshear clutched in one hand and Astrid's womb astir beneath the other. Overwhelmed with nothing but tremendous love for her family, the latter looked up at her besotted husband and knew he was hopelessly lost in the scene.

"So… as long as you keep the noon's shadow on the circle's edge," Harald finished, lifting his gaze from the sunboard, "then your course will remain true; west."

It was an awkward time to zone out, at the pinnacle of his contention, but Hiccup was about as entranced as a Nadder in a field of chickens. Astrid cleared her throat aloud. Though unfortunately that didn't work, and their northern ally was waiting expectantly.

Pretending to miss Harald's glance, she gently gripped Zeph's shoulders and kissed her cheek with a whisper, "I think Daddy needs a little rescuing. What do you reckon?"

Zeph looked up merrily and Astrid matched her grin with a finger to her lips. She bit back a smirk as her daughter raced over to Hiccup and stood on tippy toes, cupping her mouth as she pressed it to his ear.

Dazedly, he glanced at his wife. She drew her pointer finger across her lower lip, and eyes widening in understanding, he exchanged the candle and sunboard for Zeph's hand.

A violent blush crept across his face. "I, uh… if you'll excuse me, Chief Harald, I could use a stretch while I tuck my daughter in. You and Astrid, uh, continue – I won't be long."

"Sorry about that," the chieftess smiled as their baby girl all but dragged him from the room. Though the northerner was deep in contemplation. Brow knitted tightly under the candlelight, he stared at the instrument for a long time, and under the warm flickering Astrid felt her eyelids grow heavier. The lull of sleep suddenly didn't seem that far away – and she may just have succumbed, were she not so aware of the incessant wriggling in her womb.

"And if there is no sun?" Harald eventually asked, "How do you find your way then?"

Astrid grinned inwardly. Distracted as he could get around a certain copper-haired munchkin, her husband _was_ a genius. She stood and made her way across the room, picking up one last item still on the mantelpiece. "Using this."

She handed Harald the flat crystallized rock. "Hiccup calls it a sólarsteinn; you hold it up toward the sky and use it to catch the sun when it's cloudy."

"This _rock?" _he repeated, though not with quite as much skepticism as before, "Catch the sun?"

She gave an affirmative, taking her husband's seat. "We can show you tomorrow. Here on New Berk we rarely see the sun to begin with, so Hiccup had to find a solution before we could think about navigating."

The chief was silent for a while. He twisted the rock in his stocky fingers, examining it with awe. Disbelief slowly ebbing, he swallowed hard, and then – with clearly begrudging effort – met her eyes.

"It seems I may have underestimated you Berkians."

It was as close a compliment and apology as one could expect from a Northlander. "We're pretty unconventional, it's been known to happen."

He let out a gruff chuckle, "That you are – especially that husband of yours. I never quite knew what to expect from Stoick's boy, even in his youth."

Astrid found herself smiling fondly. "Neither did I. In fact I still don't, he always is full of surprises."

"And if this all works… if it really is possible to reach western lands, can we expect anyone from New Berk to sail with us?"

"We're glad you asked, Chief," Hiccup's voice floated in from the doorway. "We've already discussed the matter with our captains, and Eret's keen to join you once this wave of pox has passed over."

"Eret's our… temporary General," Astrid explained with a quick glance to her stomach, "and the best sailor on the island."

* * *

Harald's leave invited a much needed peace. Astrid leaned back with blitheness as her husband's arms wound around her, his hands reverently massaging her abdomen, lips pressed to her cheek.

"Thanks for saving me back there."

"Mmh," she grinned sleepily, anchoring his hold, "Seems _I'm_ still the one looking after _you. _Though I think Zeph deserves the credit on that one."

She could sense his blush and it gave her a satisfaction. After months of being excessively doted on, a little achievement of the reverse felt good.

(Not to mention she'd kept a competitive count of saving his ass since they were kids – a count she _was_ still winning at, for the record.)

Hiccup hummed in thought for a moment. "You know, we could always let Zeph run the next meeting," he rocked her ever gently, lips descending her neck for a more passionate kiss, "Seeing she's so keen for it."

Astrid laughed. "We are _not_ doing that again. Especially not with another little one running around."

"Fair point, milady."

They both peered down at her belly, Hiccup augmenting his massage. His touch was strong, enveloping… and tender._ So, so tender_. It melted her.

"Mommy's right, you know," he whispered to their son. (They _were_ having a boy, Astrid was sure of it – _and_ she'd recently won him over on that one.) "You're distracting enough already."

She narrowed her eyes with a smirk, twisting around to face him. "I'm the one getting kicked all evening, and he's distracting _you?"_

Meeting his gaze, however, she felt her breath hitch.

If Astrid had known the heft of carrying their second child all these months, it took on a new level now, for all of a sudden her belly was blatantly in the way, antagonizing the desire to crush every pocket of air between them. She felt enormous, not to mention dog-tired. But Freyr, Njord be damned, she felt like the most beautiful thing in the archipelago under that loving, idolizing expression he'd worn during the meeting.

Now up close it frazzled her senses – in a delectable sort of way – and Astrid wasn't sure whether to ascribe the somersault in her lower stomach to him or the babe.

No… it wasn't the baby.

It _definitely_ wasn't the baby.

"Hiccup…" she breathed as he leaned down to close the distance.

With tender hands he drew her into him, their middles softly brushing, her fingers trailing the biceps of his fervid arms wrapped around her. A sharp kick followed when she deepened the kiss, and Astrid felt him grin as she groaned into his lips, pulling his body flush against hers. Odin, how she longed to do more. This pregnancy had her emotions running like wildfire.

_Not much longer now,_ she smiled as the baby kicked again. She yanked her husband closer when he pulled back to comment.

_Certainly _not much longer – the healers were wrong, she was sure of it.

Hiccup held her like that for a long time, kissing her with all the tenderness in the world, and Astrid marveled in the reality of being this man's wife. Gods she loved him. And gods, if she weren't wonderfully, tremendously pregnant right now another child would most definitely be in the books. Their lips parted with a faint sound and she pursued him for half an inch before realizing he had pulled back.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to meet his, feeling every bit as captivated as he looked. Their embrace lingered though; the dimness and lull of sleep only enhanced the snug space they had created in the candlelight.

Hiccup tucked a soft coil of bangs behind her ear. "I think someone's telling us to follow Zeph's example. Gods, you look exhausted." He looked half in a mind to shove her into bed. She was in half a mind to let him. But before either made to move, the moment was – rather sorely – interrupted.

"Ermph," Astrid grimaced as Hiccup said, "Wow," and the top of her head knocked his chin as they both glanced down at her belly.

His palms rubbed her sides, taut but gentle, his eyes suddenly wide, "You okay?"

"Yeah… _You_ settle down now," she scolded their culprit with a passionate rub, "Stop trying to break out of me." Looking up, she smirked at the adoring concern on her husband's face. "I'm _fine_, Hiccup. Really. A whole month left, remember?"

(Though Astrid was _very sure_ the healers had lied on that account, frenzied protective-Hiccup did_ not_ need a reason to emerge tonight. Or, for what was _left_ of the night.)

She held his gaze with assertion and, slowly, he relaxed with a grin. "Well, you weren't kidding," his hands trailed round her tunic to the front, "He's been like this all night?"

"Mm-hmm." She shifted hers to show him, and as if to prove it, the baby twisted in what felt like a one eighty caroming the whole stretch of her womb.

Hiccup chuckled in awe. "Trying out the famous Hofferson somersault dive, huh?"

"More like perfecting it," Astrid snorted, unsuccessful in stifling a yawn moments after.

He gave her a sympathetic look, tracing his thumbs down the length of her belly, "Well you're gonna have to hold off on that one for a while, little man. Let's allow your exhausted mommy to get some sleep, yeah?"

They packed up wearily. Or, _Hiccup_ packed up while Astrid observed ("Gods, Ast, you should be resting. _Resting_"). They talked about the alliance, the meeting, about sailing west, until Hiccup went ahead to check on their own little West Wind – who Astrid was surprised to imagine had remained obediently in her bedroom, fast asleep at last. She was wrong.

Reaching Zeph's open doorway, she found an empty bed and the legs of her husband sticking out from under it.

"Hiccup? What are you doing?"

He jerked up in surprise, grunting when his head collided with the wooden base. Emerging red-faced, he shoved a hand in his messy locks and looked at her guiltily, "Looking for our daughter."

"You _lost_ her?" Astrid blinked as he visibly cringed, though somehow after all the evening's troubles she found herself smirking. Oh yes, tiredness was definitely sinking in. Of course their sweet and equally artful little girl wouldn't have stayed in bed without a bribe!

She leaned against the door-frame with folded arms, "What did you tell her?"

Shock flashed across Hiccup's features – at the fact that their child was missing or at her lack of reaction, Astrid couldn't quite tell – "I just told her to hold the fort!"

"Me too," she smirked at the look of horror on his face, "and then she ended up in the meeting."

Hiccup blinked at her for a moment, then gave a tired sigh, the corners of his lips tugging in mirror of her own. He strode past swiftly, poking his head into the hallway, "Zeph?!"

There was no response.

He tried again, also to no avail, before half amusedly half worriedly muttering to himself, "She can't have gone far, at least the doors are all locked… I'll go find her."

As Astrid motioned to follow he put a hand on her shoulder. "_I'll _find her. _You _get some sleep – you really should be resting."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pregnant, Hiccup, not defective."

"Exactly, and _heavily_ so," he asserted, ignoring the latter part of the statement. And with his palm placed on her middle again, the baby took the moment to kick against his fingers, hard.

"See?" he caught her poorly-masked wince, hiding an equally obvious smirk with a kiss to her cheek. "Now off to bed with you."

Astrid scowled up at him, smile twitching. How did he always, _always, _have that affect on her?

"And _you,_" he knelt before her belly, making her blush as he pressed his loving lips to it, "_behave_; your mommy's had a tiring enough night already." And he was down the hall before she could protest, leaving her feeling as Zephyr must have done. In addition to outright infatuated.

"Traitor," Astrid whispered to the babe, giving him an affectionate rub where the warmth of the kiss lingered. "Your daddy's a real cheesy sap, you know; we don't want to encourage it."

Odin above, though, she wouldn't complain if this kid took after him in enamoring fervor along with a world full of his features. As much as she loved to gloat Zeph's Hofferson traits already, she absolutely _adored_ each bit of Hiccup she discovered daily within their daughter.

She laughed at another spirited punt. "Mmh, he_ is_ right though, bed does sound wonderful…" Decisively, she grinned, "So I guess it's just you and me then, huh?" and wandered into her and Hiccup's bedroom rather gratefully, only to discover that she was once again wrong.

From under the blankets in the middle of the bed poked a russet mop, a set of tiny fingers curled a few inches away. Sheets rose and fell in tune with gentle breaths and a peaceful smile graced an adorable pair of lips. Zephyr was curled up in a deep slumber – looking so beautifully content in fact, that for a moment all plights for the evening seemed imaginary. Partly too mesmerized at the sight and partly too hesitant to chance awakening upon closer survey, Astrid found herself rooted at the entrance, beaming cordially.

A fair few minutes must have passed, for she soon heard her husband's footfalls behind her. When he approached the doorway with concern she reached for his hand and motioned forwards.

Hiccup followed her gaze to their bed. Eyes crinkling with fondness, he unwound his fingers from Astrid's to slide his arm around her. "Well, she did hold _a_ fort," he whispered, causing them both to chuckle.

His free hand glided to her belly as he looked down, "And how about _you_, little man?"

Astrid felt only the fuzzy warmth spread from his fingers. Relieved, she smiled up at him, "Well, I hope that settles it," and succumbing to long-fought fatigue at last, she rested a hand over her husband's and nuzzled side-on into his chest.

"What say you, Chief?" she murmured sleepily, "Shall we follow suit?"


	4. A Viking's Courage - Part One

**AN: Part one of a two-shot. ****Once again, thank you to the reviewers - it is a joy to write but a great delight to hear others out there enjoy it!**

* * *

**A VIKING'S COURAGE**

**PART I**

Nuffink hit the ground with a grunt. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the burly, outstretched arm to seize him, to hoist him off his grassy refuge and into whatever Hel lay beyond.

But it never came. Instead came the sound of steel colliding and the flapping of startled birds fleeing trees.

It wasn't his captor who'd pushed him, he realized. The hand had been smaller – gentle almost, despite contacting his chest in a violent shove – and somehow amidst all the chaos, its touch left imparted a fragment of hope.

Slowly, the young teen opened his eyes and his voice escaped in a croak. "M-Mom?"

She moved like a dancer. Arms poised, feet fluid; axe twirling in immaculate rhythm with her steps. They were familiar, those steps – a sequence of light taps and turns that skimmed the grass in seemingly effortless grace.

But they were different. It wasn't the dance that had captivated him for as long as he could remember; the one that always left him in awe during training; the one he'd tried to mimic before he was old enough to own a weapon, which would earn him delighted laughter and a snuggle that made him feel like he owned the archipelago instead.

And although that voice whose laughter would swell his heart was now yelling at him, Nuffink perceived that it _wasn't_ her voice. Nor was the splay of beautiful copper hair before him, dazzling in the sunlight that streamed through the canopy.

"Go, Nuff! Go! _Run!"_

_Run...?_

Nuff blinked dazedly, Zephyr's words a foreign echo to his ears. He'd tried that already, escaped the first group of pursuers only to be ambushed by a new trio. Surely there were more of them out there.

What was happening beyond the grove? How did she find him? Was the village under attack?

"RUN!" his sister shouted, louder, voice cracking with desperation. _"Get out of here!"_

He would have obeyed if he could. But the young Viking found himself in a trance, paralyzed but for the ragged catching of his breaths and his trembling elbows wanting to give way. It was all happening too fast: steel hitting steel with clangs horrid to his ears; thrusts giving off an awful woody-metal smell; footfalls vibrating the dirt beneath his palms – until a large body fell at his feet with a strenuous thud and Nuff felt the world shift as reality finally registered.

Just a moment ago, that was almost him.

Just then, it could have been _her_.

His paralyzed feet leapt up of their own accord, shaky fingers lifting the captor's blade. Zeph parried a lunging spear and kicked out at its wielder – a man twice her thew – and Nuff felt his pulse pound in his ears as their mother's words rung through.

_Spears are risky in close quarters, unless you're fast._

This man _was_ fast, and he was big – much bigger than Zeph – which gave him the advantage of strength. Advancing again, his eyes flickered to Nuffink, though he gave no further acknowledgement as the latter lunged toward him.

"No, _don't!"_

Zeph's shout didn't register, and Nuffink didn't realize his mistake until it was too late. All Astrid's tutelage seemed to flood into his now helpless mind at once. _The body can lie; don't trust it. But watch the eyes – the eyes always tell the truth!_

Dread consumed him and he held his breath, bracing for the impact. But once again his sister's arm was over his chest, sweeping him behind her as she bent backwards and the spear struck at empty air.

The spearman was fast.

But Zeph was faster.

Taking the opening at his miss, she spun left in a sidestep and brought her axe across his path of recovery, cleaving his neck in a fatal blow.

That left just one attacker. A man of average build wielding a greatsword. He glanced at his companions on the forest floor, then back up at their killer, eyes full of malice.

His body charged forward with rage, closing the distance between them in an instant. Nuff held his breath as the man feigned left, spun and struck out at Zephyr from the right. Their weapons connected in a bloodcurdling screech, and the force of the impact was enough to send Zeph recoiling. She staggered and recovered, enough to block his second strike, but not the one that followed rapidly after it, knocking loose her shoulder-guard.

Zephyr inhaled sharply, either in pain or in anger. She ducked beneath his next swing and nimbly leapt out of reach of the next.

She was lighter on her feet than the foe welcomed. And were her movements not desperate defenses to stay alive, Nuffink would have sat back comfortably and smiled; instead, he found his body frozen and the bitter taste of iron in his mouth.

The warrior flew at his sister. Nuff heard her cry out. Blood flecked the grass and a deep line of crimson tore her upper arm. Something inside Nuff broke at the sight, knowing that he was responsible – that this was all happening to protect _him_ – and watching the sword slash wildly at her, he saw its wielder had a different motive than that of his comrades.

This man did not have the intent to capture; this man was out to _kill_.

He flung at Zephyr with a greater intensity. This time when she slipped back, she struck at a low branch above and a cluster of leaf-strewn wood rained down on him. The loud clang echoed off his helm, and he flinched away, temporarily stunned. And in that moment of confusion, Zeph came at him.

Her blow would have struck him dead, and Nuffink almost found himself rejoicing. But in that last fraction of a second, the swordsman saw her weakness, and extended his leg beneath hers, knocking her off her feet. Rather than fall flat where he'd have her, she shifted her momentum into a somersault, swinging her weapon desperately to deflect his. Their blades shrieked and clanged in the quiet forest, spitting faint sparks as the swordsman pushed and pushed and drove Zephyr back. She spun and parried. He plunged and smashed down on every block.

Inside, Nuff felt a skirmish of similar sorts. The desire to jump in tore at him, shred through every fiber of his being.

But he fought it. If he stepped in now, he would likely only get both him and Zeph killed.

Her movements were uncannily like their mother's. They kept her always one inch beyond the reach of the blade, and just graceful and wigged out enough to remain unpredictable. She was Astrid at sixteen, Nuff had heard their father gloat – though she had a greater love for books than thrill for battle to the latter's credit.

Yet not even Berk's next-greatest shieldmaiden could keep up with this man. She risked a glance behind her every few steps. Nuff could see her tiring, repeatedly breaking away to gain some advantage, only to be pinned once more exchanging desperate clashes to keep his sword from sinking into her.

One slash was so close that she was only spared by fate laying a loose tree-stump in her path.

_Get up,_ Nuff prayed, feeling as though _he'd_ just avoided being impaled. He prayed to every god he could think of. _Please get up._

But to his horror, Zeph attempted to side-roll only to grunt with pain and fall back again. Instantly the attacker was on her, raising his blade for the final strike.

Time seemed to slow as she swept her axe through the air in front of her, hooking it around the swordsman's calf and yanking him off balance. He stumbled forward with an agonized groan and she rolled up to slam her feet against his chest. As he was knocked back, he struck out, slicing the sword into the crease behind her knee.

Zephyr's scream as her leg gave out was too much. And all of a sudden Nuff found himself in front of her, bringing his own blade down on their wounded adversary. Steel sunk into lacerated flesh. Blood seeped from beneath silver mail. Lungs heaved raggedly as breaths escaped in slowing rasps.

Trembling like a leaf in the evening wind, the bewildered boy stared at the man dying before him. His first kill.

"Nuff…"

"Zeph…"

Recovering with a jolt, Nuffink released his iron grasp on the sword-hilt and clambered toward his sister.

"Zeph!" he gasped, feeling helpless and guilty and pathetic all at once, "You're… you're hurt!"

As the words left his lips, he heard a chorus of muffled yells in the distance, bringing on a fresh bout of dread.

Zephyr groaned. "Nuff, I…" she struggled to sit as they both glanced at her wounds. The skin beneath her mottled shoulder-guard was flecked with a darkened red – the cut didn't appear deep. But fresh blood leaked freely down her leg, painting the grass an ugly maroon. She propped up on her elbows, wincing. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he whispered, catching her sea-blue stare with terrified orbs.

She gave him a weak grin, "Mom would have thrashed them."

Despite himself, her brother found himself smiling back. Though his relief was extinguished the moment it begun to settle by an angered yell from across the grove. The shouts were growing louder.

Nuff gulped, straining to listen, and felt his stomach drop. Although they came from the direction of the village, these voices _weren't_ Berkian.

Scrambling behind Zephyr, he tore off the end of his tunic to hastily fasten around the slit. After a weak apology for the crudeness, his hands hooked under her arms and he leaned his weight back, lifting her upper half in a gentler tug.

Another groan escaped her as she raised her knee to stop the wound scraping. "Nuff– urgh–" she grimaced, "Nuff, wait."

He shook his head roughly, forgetting that she couldn't see him. The approaching voices were a lot closer now, accompanied by the sound of footsteps. Nuffink abandoned his gentle attempts, and pulled hard, grunting himself at the effort.

"It's too late," Zephyr breathed, fear seeping through her protest. But he ignored her, maneuvering into a half standing half squatting position. "Just go–"

"Don't even think it. _I'll_ be the one at the end of Mom's wrath if I don't get you home safely."

"Better than both of us being– _urgh!"_

She didn't finish her sentence, for a fresh bout of pain overcame her as her leg scuffed over a shallow tree-root.

"I'm not leaving you, Zeph!" her brother whisper-snapped. "I know you're future Chief and all, but you're _not_ yet and I don't have to listen to you. So shut up and work with me here!"

She tilted her head back to look at him, ocean meeting upside-down forest. He held her stare firmly, resolutely; his determination winning over hers, her fear winning over his.

She nodded with a wince, shifting the weight of her axe into one hand and gripping his skinny bicep with the other. In one strong movement, she hoisted herself up in sync with his next pull and pushed back with her good leg, careful to keep her other knee as high off the ground as possible.

Their struggle was all but elegant. Red continued to leak from Zeph's cut, forcing them to stop to redress it with Nuffink's vest a few strides in. She was quickly becoming fatigued, likely from the blood loss, and Nuff's muscles cramped as he clumsily hauled her through the woods.

He cursed the gods. Why couldn't they have been blessed him with his grandfather's brawn? (The late one – Grampy Hoff's constitution was a bit too on the blubbery side.) Hel, his fate was nadir in that regard; when it came to tangible brawn, New Berk's Chief and Chieftess were the most petite Vikings of their generation.

That was usually a comforting thought, considering the former was the greatest revolutionary Berk had ever seen and the latter the most feared shieldmaiden in the archipelago. Nuff could have laughed at the irony. But their parents' fame was probably the reason for him and Zeph's present situation, and the young teen lamented being the smallest in the family, both in height and thew.

He tried to shake the image of Cousin Smitelout from his mind, carrying Zeph over one shoulder like a sack of feathers, yelling boasts and insults at "Aunt Astrid's Baby Chiefink." But daring a glance behind him, Nuff was met with a relief that could have swallowed the whole island.

There it was, at the edge of the forest – their sanctuary. No raven-haired tower of muscle waiting to chaff him. No stronger, 'Viking-er' peer to lay his own triumph on the thick. He, _Nuffink Haddock_, had made it; played the hero.

A twig cracked beneath his foot and he paused to listen for the sound of pursuing doom. For what felt an eternity he held his breath, fought down his panting, resisted the collapse of his frail, unsteady legs. And at last, his fears began to dwindle, exchanged for a hope that lodged this time.

The blend of foreign voices and footsteps was distant again. Still approaching – but slowly, and not in conscious pursuit.

"Zeph, look, we made it," Nuff whispered although no one else could have heard him.

And, for a moment, it seemed no one at all did.

"Zeph…?" He glanced down at the limp form of his sister. Her head lolled forward, tousled strands of copper falling over her face. Her arms were flaccid, fingers weakly clasping the throat of her axe. Crimson soaked the vest wrapped around her leg, staining the material a ghastly color.

"Oh no, Zeph!" Nuff dropped to his knees and pulled her into his lap. "Zeph! _Zephyr!"_ He her a light shake, arms locked around her front above the chest. "Please, answer me!"

He shook her harder, and slowly, Zeph stirred, opening dulled oceany eyes to half-lidded.

"What are you waiting for?" her voice was weak, her free hand lifting to rest over his, "If we sit out here, we're dead."

"Sorry," Nuff said shakily as she gave his fingers a squeeze. "I'll… I'll get us under cover."

He dragged her toward the entrance of the hideout, slowly, gently, and propped her up against a neighboring trunk. Pulling open the leaf-cloaked hatch their father had built for training, he swallowed the lump of uneasiness in his throat. They had made it to safety, yes. But by the look of her injury, Zeph was in trouble.

She groaned as he helped her into the cave, and her head flopped against the wall with a shudder of relief.

Or was it weakness? Debility?

Nuff shook his worry aside, knowing there was no use dwelling on it. There was nothing they could do but wait now – wait and hope to be found by someone from the village. And though he was afraid, Nuff was certain they would be; he and Zeph were the son and daughter of the two greatest Vikings to walk the archipelago after all.

Feeling an overwhelming love for their father, the young teen sealed the hatch and made a dash toward his sister. He mimicked her position, his head coming to rest against the wall as their shoulders brushed under the faint light spilling in from the ceiling cover.

Half-lidded, she met his gaze, the cheek and confidence of their mother's sea-blue eyes shining through.

"You know," Nuff said, shaky but assured with a look that was all Astrid, "Mom's definitely gonna thrash them."

* * *

**Part Two coming soon. 'Til then, keep well, everyone.**


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